


The Killing Floor

by BroltaAMaga



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 03:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13227372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroltaAMaga/pseuds/BroltaAMaga
Summary: My take on what should have happened when the whalers tried to rape Astrid. She's a deceitful queen to Harald, yes, but even deceit doesn't deserve gang rape. They picked the wrong girl to mess with.





	The Killing Floor

Hakon had just finished inside of you and you pushed him off you, frustrated, angry but grateful, thinking stupidly that that was the end of it. When he gathered his wits, grabbed the knife from the slaughtering table and glanced at the door, your blood ran cold and you vaguely for a moment thought it impossible. Your blood was already the temperature of the water in the river nearby from enduring Hakon’s hurried assault up against the table. 

“What are you doing?” Your heartbeat was in your ears, thumping so loudly you couldn’t even register your own words. 

Just then, three more of Hakon’s men walked in the side door and it finally hit home. He had invited some of his crew to enjoy you as well. Your fear spilled out of you as sarcastic anger. 

“The gold and the aquamarine weren’t enough?” you sneered and backed up against the table, trying not to let the men leveling their lascivious glances at you think they were having any effect. 

“No, my queen.” Hakon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We desire more.” 

A pimple-faced redhead boy slunk up next to Hakon, eyeing you like a dog on a plate of leftover meat.  
“Can I have her first, Uncle?”  
The other men chuckled at that. Hakon smiled and slapped him on the ass.  
“Sure, Onarr. We all want to see you take a queen your first woman,”Hakon laughed.  
“At least we won’t have to wait long,” one of the other men joked and they all roared with laughter. Onarr shoved the man, then turned and narrowed his eyes at you. Your survival instinct took over and you found yourself playing a part that reviled you, the damsel in distress, the weak female unable to defend herself, but it just might work, you thought as you felt Onarr’s disgustingly eager hands rucking up your skirts. You shriveled under his grasp, faked a shriek, knowing he would smother your mouth with one hand. Sure enough he did just that, while his other dug his cock out of his pants. Right as he entered you, his breath huffed out and his virginal hips getting barely two pumps in, you grabbed the large meat hook that had been hanging above you, and sunk it deep into his neck. He was an easy kill, both hands occupied and his virginal brain focused on his first conquest. 

His eyes bulged, he twitched and then slid to the ground. 

The other men gasped, in shock as they went from watching encouragingly as their kinsman took you to the moment where you wrenched the hook from him and he sunk to the floor in a bloody, twitching heap. 

Hakon was the first to animate out of his amazed stupor and rush towards you. He still had the knife in one hand and raised it with a yell towards you. He may have been a skillful whaler, able to wield a knife in the butcher of an already dead opponent, a whale, but when it came to you, a live, skilled shield maiden, he was shit. You grabbed his wrist, bent it easily backwards making him shriek like a girl. You swapped the knife from his hand to yours and you sunk it under his breastbone in one swift movement. 

The larger man rushed you, and before you’d even had a chance to pull your knife from Hakon, you reached across your body with the hook, burying it into the softness under his jaw. They both slumped from your weapons in unison. The fourth man, gaped at you, then inhaled to bolster his bravery and rushed you with a holler. It was a heavy handled knife, so you quickly twirled it in your fingers, holding it by the blade. He was still four feet away when you let it fly. 

It cut through the air in a flash and hit home, right in the hollow of his neck. He flew back against the door, hands scrabbling uselessly at the handle, eyes huge. He slid down the door and died with his eyes wide open in surprise. 

You surveyed the bodies and the blood pooling around you and smiled. No one fucks with the Queen.


End file.
